


Love Alone Is Worth The Fight

by emolee96



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Epistolary, Gen, I mean, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, all of the amis basically, but i think it works?, but there's also dialogue, i don't know what i'm writing anymore, i hope it does, i'll stop now, it's kind of confused basically, kind of, so i mean, they'll all make an appearance at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emolee96/pseuds/emolee96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire thinks Enjolras hates him. Enjolras thinks Grantaire hates him. Their friends make them write letters about their feelings. This is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've got your name rattling around in my tiny brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire doesn't want to deal with his feelings. Jehan is tired of hearing about it.

_Enjolras,_

_They’re forcing me to write this. By “they” I mean Ep and Jehan. Jehan can be quite intimidating when he wants to get his way. I don’t know if you know that about him. A lot of people don’t know a lot of things about him. He tends to keep to himself most of the time._

_Anyway, though, the two of them said I should write this. Claimed it would be therapeutic or something. Like Éponine would know. She’s worse with Marius than I am with you. But that’s not the point. This is about me, and I am going to take full advantage of that, because I am nothing if not a sarcastic cynical narcissistic asshole. As you so kindly remind me as often as you can._

_You hate me, though. And I’ve totally come to terms with that. I am perfectly okay with sitting in the back with Bossuet and Bahorel and playing cards and antagonizing you because angry you is the only you I can get, and it’s screwed up and unhealthy but I am weirdly okay with it, because it’s you, and that’s all I really want, and I don’t know how you don’t see it, because it’s completely obvious, but you don’t, and honestly, I think it might be better that way._

_Because you would hate me even more if you did know. I mean, you already think I’m pathetic. I can’t imagine what you would think if you knew I was pathetically in love with you. Because I am. In love with you, I mean. And there’s nothing I can do about it anymore. But I’m going to stop writing now because I have nothing else to say, and Jehan didn’t tell me this had to be a certain number of words anyway. Quite while I’m ahead and all, although I think I lost that battle a long time ago._

_R_

* * *

 

Grantaire put his pen down on the desk, perhaps a bit more angrily than absolutely necessary, crumpled the letter into a ball, and threw it in the trash.

“I’m done!” he yelled to nobody in particular. He was done with many things, including but not limited to the letter, but that was technically what he was talking about at the moment.

“Good. Now you can start writing the next one,” Jehan said cheerfully. He flopped onto Grantaire’s bed, opened his book and began to read again, scribbling something in the margins every once in a while, but ending up with more ink on his hands than on the page. “Where’s the first one?”

“I am not writing another one, you can’t make me, one was bad enough.” Grantaire told him, “And it’s in the trash.

“Not anymore,” Jehan got up and pulled the paper out of the trashcan. He straightened it out. “This is going in the box. You’ll thank me later, I promise.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. He’d known Jehan his entire life, and of two things he was absolutely certain: One, that Jehan was a vampire. Nope, wrong story. One, that it was never good when Jehan promised something. Two, that Jehan kept everything in the box. The tickets from that Fall Out Boy concert they’d gone to in middle school, when they never were quite punk enough no matter how hard they tried, the playbill from the time they saw Once on Broadway, a picture of Grantaire and Éponine at their senior prom (They’d both only gone because they felt like they had to, and spent the whole night making fun of people. They also somehow ended up as prom king and queen. Nobody knew how that happened). Now, apparently, Grantaire’s letters to Enjolras were joining the collection. (“Letters” plural, because according to Jehan, there was going to be another one. Grantaire would let him think that. He wasn’t one for crushing dreams.)

“You going to read it?” Grantaire asked, like he didn’t care (he did).

“Of course not. But you might want it someday.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. Again. He did that a lot. He was a very sarcastic person. His mother thought he needed an attitude adjustment. “Right. Whatever you say. I’ll totally want to remind myself of how pathetic I am sometime in the future.”

“Trust me,” Jehan said. And Grantaire, against his own better judgment, did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is one of the songs from the new Fading West EP by Switchfoot.  
> Chapter title is also from one of the songs on that EP, called Ba55. An early version, though. Not the one actually on the EP.  
> Can you tell I love Switchfoot? 'Cause I do. They're my jam. And their new EP came out the other day. Hence all the Switchfootiness in this one.  
> I hope you all liked it! It's my favorite idea I've had in a while, I've already got a lot more written.  
> I'm over on tumblr at itsalldalektome if you want to come say hi!


	2. I'm not sure why you're here tonight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre is tired of waking up at 3 AM. Enjolras writes a letter.

“Why am I doing this again?” Enjolras asked.

“Because you need to deal with your feelings and I’m tired of hearing about them at three n the morning,” Combeferre said without looking up from his book. It was a very good book. “Also because Jehan says so.

“Fair enough,” Enjolras conceded and put pen to paper.

* * *

 

_Grantaire,_

_If I were a better person, I would start this letter with an apology. But I’m not a very good person, not really, and so I’m not going to do that. Not because I don’t want to, but because I know you, and I know you won’t believe me if I do apologize. Even though you’re not going to read this. But Jehan said I should write it like you’re going to. Jehan’s a good person. He’s smart. Best thing that’s even happened to Combeferre. And that’s all thanks to you. But this isn’t about them right now._

_You’ve done a lot of things for a lot of people. You make them better. You make me better. I wonder if you see that, sometimes. It doesn’t always seem like it. And even if you do, I don’t think you believe it._

_So you frustrate me, Grantaire, you really do. Not because I don’t like you, because I really do. But you don’t believe in anything, not even yourself. And you should. I do. We all do. You’ve got a lot to believe in, R._

_And I know you think I probably hate you. I know I act like it sometimes. Don’t give me that look. I know you are. And I know it’s more than just sometimes. But I’m just trying to get you to understand. You’re worth so much to so many people, to me more than most of them. No, I’m not going to say that. I can’t speak for everyone else. But you mean a lot to me. More than you probably know._

_Because you make me better, Grantaire. I know I said that before, but it really is true. You make my arguments better, stronger. You see all the holes that nobody else does. But that’s not the only reason. I would be lying if I said it was, and I am nothing if not an honest man. (And modest, too, I can hear you saying, but you should stop because it’s my turn now and I’m not finished yet.)_

_You make me human, R. I don’t see people like you do. I don’t really understand them sometimes. And so sometimes, ok, more than sometimes, I’m insensitive, because I don’t see these things like you do, and you’re the only one that isn’t afraid to call me out on that. Well, Combeferre, sometimes. But you don’t sugarcoat it. You tell the truth._

_I’ve never really had friends before, not like I have them now. The cause was always the most important thing to me, and I didn’t understand how anyone else could see anything else. I never really like people, and they tended to stay away from me._

_And then you came to one of the meeting. I like to think you meant to come, even though you still claim it was just a coincidence, that you were at the Musain to walk Éponine home and stayed because she wanted to because Marius was there. But you were there, and you stared arguing with me. And I felt things that I’d never really felt before. And it confused me. And I didn’t know what to do._

_But then you kept acting like you hated me, and you argued with me all the time. SO I figured you didn’t like me, and I ignored what I was feelings, because that is totally a healthy thing to do. (See? Sarcasm. I do have a sense of humor sometimes. You’re rubbing off on me.)_

_You’re just a very confusing person, Grantaire. And I’m not easily confused. I still can’t figure out whether or not you hate me, even though ‘Ferre and Courf say you don’t. And as much as I get mad at you, I also want this to be more than just us fighting all the time._

_I want to know you, Grantaire. Really know you. Not just argue with you. And I wish you would let me try._

_Enjolras_

* * *

 

“You certainly have a lot to say,” Combeferre remarked, eyeing the pages Enjolras had written (And the larger number of pages he had scribble on, torn up, and thrown in the trash).

“When do I not?” Enjolras leaned back in his chair and stretched.

“Point,” Combeferre nodded, and then gestured at the pages Enjolras was still holding in his hand, and was now reading over like he hated everything he’d said and wanted to rewrite it all. “Keep them,” Combeferre told him. “And don’t change a word.”

“Why?”

“You never know when you might want to say something. And you won’t be able to find the courage, or the words, when you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!   
> Chapter title is from the song "Out of Control" by Switchfoot.  
> I'm on tumblr at itsalldalektome if you want to come say hi!


End file.
